Gabriel's Game
by Feagalad
Summary: If Dean was Michael and Sam was Lucifer then that would make Adam...Gabriel? Set post-Meta Fiction where the newely liberated Adam comes face-to-face with the archangel he was SUPPOSED to house. Features Sam and Dean generally being epic big brothers and Gabriel being his usual, wonderful self. AU


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* * *

**Author's Note:** _This is the sort-of sequel to my earlier fic, **On Earth As It Is In**** Heaven**, which dealt with some of Adam's musings during a break in the Cage. I would recommend going back and reading that before you delve into this one, as it does reference the former fic several times, but everything should be understandable without reading the original one-shot. Cheers!_

**Disclaimer: **_No, I can't lay claim to it._

* * *

Once upon a time there were three brothers. Nope, no...I _promised _Dean whenever he gave me this journal (No, it's not a 'diary', you jerk, and I KNOW you're reading this!) that I wouldn't keep writing stuff like that. According to my idiot brothers, that's what I spent most of my first week out of Hell doing - writing that phrase (and others more rude) over and over on any surface I could find: motel phone-book, fogged-up mirror, white-sauce for Sam's fries, the rain on Dean's Baby's window, and (most memorable, even to me) in my own blood.

Yeah. I was pretty messed up after it all. Good job I've got two equally-screwed-in-the-head brothers to get me through it all!

God help me...

We STILL haven't tried for that joint rate at the psychiatrist's yet...something about Sam and Dean being back on the FBI's Most Wanted list, _again _(Seriously, what was this, their fifth time? That's gotta be some kind of record!) and our having to keep a low profile. My guess that's the only reason why Dean (a major jerk and the world's biggest over-protective mother hen) doesn't have me checked into the funny farm right now. But anyway, back to the three brothers.

And yes, after the week I've had, I deserve a little relapse into old comfort techniques. 500 years in the Pit with two pissed-off archangels frying your ass is enough to drive anyone into madness. I'm just lucky (or unlucky, depending on who you ask) that I'm a Winchester, so apparently functioning insanity is in the genes.

Once upon a time there were three brothers...do you know that writing that tale on the walls of the Cage was very therapeutic? If you should ever be thrown into the depths of Hell, be sure to take the time _not _spent in soul-twisting torture to do a bit of introspection on yourself. Meditate. Take up yoga. Trust me, it did wonders for me!

But maybe, before Dean reads this and freaks out that I've gone back to old habits and demons (pun intended) I should just go ahead and tell you all what happened today. Hey...it's not _my _fault he's making me keep a JOURNAL every night to help me 'deal' with it all. Personally I suspect that Emo!Sammy talked him into it, but for now I'm going to bite my tongue and obey. Like I said, writing things down sometimes _can _help, and I'd rather write than have to deal with a chick-flick moment any day!

So today was kinda weird. And not just 'normal' Winchester weird either. It was W.E.I.R.D!

* * *

"So you're sure it's a djinn?"

Adam huffed in exasperation and shared a look with his eldest brother. Sam, the ridiculously tall geek that he was, had been spending _far _too much time in the library ever since Garth had first called with news of this hunt. Not that Adam was exactly an advocate of rushing in unprepared or anything like that (even if he had been, Dean's ear-blistering lecture would have quickly cured him of it), but this was well over the border from 'cautious' to 'OCD'.

"Dude, take a chill pill" Dean said to his older younger brother. "I'm sure it's a djinn. Son of a bitch's been holed up in Djinnifer's old warehouse for probably a month now. What else could it be?"

Sam opened his mouth, considered for a moment, and then shut it without saying anything - apparently deciding that it wasn't worth the argument. "Fine. Your funeral, jerk."

"Be ready to eat your words, bitch."

"Come on, brat." This was said in eerie unison as the two elder Winchesters grabbed their 'crap', as Dean put it, and headed down to the Batcave garage to select which non-conspicuous car they were going to drive to the job. (Dean looked mournfully at where Baby was on lockdown. Adam hoped that he wouldn't go off onto another rant about the half-assed mob of idiots that was the FBI, because if he was it was going to be a _long_ drive.)

"So, small fry, ready for your first big hunt?"

Thank goodness for small mercies...although 'small' wasn't really a word that could _ever _be used to describe Sam Winchester. Unless you were talking about the likelihood of his sanity, that is.

Adam shrugged, relishing the idea of getting out of the Batcave after Dean's forced hermitude. (After the motel-and-bloody-writing incident, Dean had rushed them all back here and proceeded to hover worse than a helicopter mom!) "I guess I am. Won't know until I get there, that is."

"You'll be fine." Sam smiled comfortingly.

Dean nodded. "You will. And remember...if you start feeling claustrophobic or unsettled or have even the slightest _hint _of a flashback or hallucination - "

"I'm to tell you at once so we can get the hell out of there." Adam recited dutifully. "Dude, it's practically etched into my eardrums by this point!"

"If I wasn't worried about rattling that melon of yours, you'd be getting a slap for that." Dean said with a frown.

"Who are you, my mother?"

"Watch it, brat." There was no heat in Dean's voice. "I'm trying hard not to feel insulted that you got me mixed up with your other brother here."

"...Wait, why am I the mother?" Sam pulled his nose out of the iPad Charlie had gifted him with.

Dean exchanged a wink with Adam in the rear-view window as they pulled out onto the main road. "Because, _Samantha_, you're the girl in this relationship."

"Jerk." Sam muttered sulkily and went back to indulging his OCD.

* * *

"Gun?"

"Check."

"Is it loaded?"

"Check."

"Phone?"

"Check."

"Silver knife dipped in lamb's blood?"

"Check! For the love of God, Dean...I really do have everything!"

"Just making sure, small-fry." Dean reached out to ruffle his youngest sibling's hair, much to Adam's annoyance. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

The three Winchesters slammed closed the trunk and walked towards the door of the warehouse, prepped and ready for Adam's first hunt (because killing two demons by coming out of Hell screaming and slashing wildly didn't count and neither did being eaten by ghouls in a damn crypt) as a Winchester.

* * *

No sooner were they inside the warehouse, then Dean was letting out a long and LOUD string of profanities (displaying a fluency in the dirty side of at least twenty languages, both archaic and otherwise) that would have made a sailor blush. The reason for this vulgar outburst?

Adam blinked and looked around the room. Were those Barbie slippers on the offensively pink bed? Was this djinn a six year old girl or something?

"Oh _crap_!" Sam snarled, echoing Dean's earlier sentiments...though in a slightly less vulgar fashion. He looked at his brother who was currently scowling and looking like he was planning the murder the FBI was chasing him for. "Dean, is it just me or does this feel terribly familiar."

"Goddammit!" Dean snarled, "You think I didn't notice?!"

"Ummm...didn't notice what?" Adam ventured.

His brothers ignored him in favour of having a silent, furious argument entirely through stares. Adam _really _hated it whenever they did that.

"EXCUSE ME!" He said loudly. "What's going on?"

"Maybe I can answer that."

Adam jumped and spun around (_not _letting out an unmanly squeak as he did so) and Sam and Dean stopped their fighting long enough to turn the full force of their 'broody, intimidating stares' on the man who had just appeared out of thin air.

He didn't look intimidated, sedately chewing on a blue Twizzler and grinning just a bit too manically for Adam's comfort.

"Hello, boys. Did you miss me?"

* * *

"So." Sam said, glaring at the newcomer. "Not dead, I see."

"Hmmm? Oh, right." He waved his gnawed Twizzler carelessly. "I was, but now I'm not. Guess Dad still occasionally steps in and personally pulls strings now and again. Needless to say I woke up, naked as the day I was fledged, and completely surrounded by goats."

Despite himself, Dean snorted. "Is that funnier in Enochian?"

_Oh crap! _Suddenly it all made sense in Adam's mind. The douchy attitude, mysterious powers, and the fluttering sound that had heralded his abrupt appearance...all those things added up to only one answer. "You're an angel." And he may have backed away; a perfectly reasonable response, given his history with angels.

"The one and only." The guy beamed. "And what are you yahoos up to today? Not here to stake me again, I should hope. I took a bullet for you all!"

"Yeah, _Loki_, we remember." Dean said.

"And thanks for that." Sam added, stepping on his brother's foot. "But what happened?"

Loki (also known as the archangel Gabriel) shrugged, finishing his Twizzler thoughtfully. "Well whenever I woke up I found out that you lot had actually managed to kick the big bros downstairs and lock 'em up to work out their differences in private, so there really wasn't any reason for me to hang about on Earth. Kali was out for my head along with Aphrodite and Freya (she'd have no trouble convincing them to unite...not after our last rendezvous) so I struck out for home sweet home and hid out in heaven until that MAJOR douchebag, Megatron, decided to boot all of our asses out of the big house." He pouted and shook a fist at the ceiling. "Damn him!"

"Yeah, that's sort of old news." Dean said. "Where have you been since then?"

"As I told the little bro (You know - the one who's totally in love with you?)...I ran, I hid, I finally watched _Downton Abbey_. And let me tell you, it isn't all that it's chalked up to be...like _Pride & Prejudice _without the sarcasm or _The King's Speech_ without Colin Firth."

"So you went back to the old stand-by? Torturing any poor bastard that you decide is a dick?"

Gabriel dug out a small tin of what smelled like cotton candy from his coat pocket and glared at Dean as he used his teeth to pop it open. "I'll have you know that my 'dick-o-meter' is quite accurate, Dean-o." He said, taking a big bite from the contents apparently bigger-on-the-inside tin. Adam wondered if angels could develop diabetes.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, whatever you say, Gabe."

"I do say it, and there's no need to deep fry me in holy oil this time, by the way. This trap isn't for you."

Adam was relaxing somewhat. It was hard to be afraid of even an archangel who was stuffing its face with spun sugar that was dyeing the tongue and lips blue.

"So, let me get this straight." Sam said. "God brought you back to life, you hid out in Heaven until Metatron cast the spell, and then you've been chastising jerks and all-around reprobates here on Earth ever since?"

"Damn straight I have."

"So you're not the one who pulled Adam out of Hell?"

"Who? Adam? What?" He caught sight of the youngest Winchester and his mouth fell open, revealing (sure enough) a blue tongue. "Oh damn." Gabriel looked Adam up and down in a manner that, had he been anyone else, would have had Dean's 'pervert sensor' screaming on overload. As it was, none of the Winchesters felt particularly comfortable...especially the one currently under the archangel's scrutiny.

"What?" Adam demanded, just as the silence was stretching out into awkwardness overload. "Do I have something on my face?"

Gabriel blinked and forced a shallow grin. "Nothing beyond the usual, short stuff."

"Hey! Who're _you _calling 'short stuff'?" So what if he was shorter than his two brothers (the ones Garth had described as The Hair and The Jawline) and barely cleared six feet? He was almost taller than Dean and still taller than cotton-candy man here!

"I'm calling you 'short stuff, short stuff." Gabriel grinned and held out the tin. "Cotton candy?"

Adam wrinkled his nose. "No thanks. My mother always taught me - never accept candy from strangers."

"Ah, but we're not exactly strangers, Adam. So go ahead. I promise I didn't lick it beforehand."

Adam was about to tell the smarmy dick where he could stick his damn candy whenever Dean cut in, sounding aggressive and rather worried. "Now hang on...what the _hell _do you mean by you're not exactly strangers? I know for a certain fact that Adam has never met you in his entire LIFE!" His hand was twitching like he was wishing he had brought Castiel's angel blade.

"Oh...didn't anyone mention it to you? Heh. It's kinda funny when you think about it."

_"What's funny?"_ Sam demanded, at the same time that Dean snapped out _"Didn't mention what?"_

Gabriel finished his cotton candy and brandished the empty tin like a wand. "Your ancestors must have done something to seriously piss off Atropos and her sisters." He said. "Because your family has the worst luck of any family I've ever seen...and that includes Esau!"

"Just spit it out, Gabe."

"Short stuff here is my vessel."

Adam was vaguely aware of Dean's enraged shout of _"WHAT?!" _over the roaring in his ears, but he was infinitely more aware of the painful squeezing in his chest and the overwhelming need to puke. Not again. This _couldn't _be happening again! He wouldn't be a chew-toy for one of those damn archangel douches again.

Flames licked around the corners of his vision, burning and tearing at his flesh as Lucifer laughed at him and Michael turned away in disgust. Oh God...it was so dark! So cold it burned! Where was Sam? Had he escaped? Was Adam alone? It _hurt_!

"..._Adam_!"

The youngest Winchester came slowly back to reality (or what he fervently _hoped _was reality), grounded by the voice of his second eldest brother (the voice that had kept him grounded for over two-hundred years in Hell) and by the warm hand on his shoulder (the same hand that had shielded him from the worst of Satan's wrath until Sam was torn from him).

"Adam, do you copy?"

And there was Dean. He _couldn't _be back in Hell, then, because Dean hadn't been there. Not even during the worst periods of Michael's rage-fuelled punishments had Dean been there for Adam to see.

"Adam?"

"I...I'm good." He managed to stutter out, swallowing back the bile and watching the macabre mosaic of Hell fade from his vision. "I'm fine."

Sam (the giant girl) patted his shoulder while Dean gave a tight, relieved smile. "Good." He said. "Because I'd hate to get in trouble again for deep frying this douche's wings in holy oil." He shot a dark glare at Gabriel, who had the decency to look a bit ashamed.

But Adam wasn't interested in chick-flick moments or platitudes just now. Oh no...he had just experienced a full-on flashback, triggered by a thoughtless revelation from a heavenly asshat, and he would be damned (again) if he wasn't going to get some answers for that.

"What d'you mean I'm your v-vessel?"

"Just what I said...just like ol' Mikey and Lucy's vessels come down through the Winchester and Campbell bloodlines, the vessel for yours truly (the awesome and totally handsomest archangel from the Heavenly Hosts) comes down through the Milligan family. Mix that in with a bit of Winchester, and voilà!" He gestured and smiled like he expected Adam to break out into a celebratory dance at this news.

Adam did none of those things, instead wondering if Dean would loan him some holy oil...

* * *

Fortunately, Sam was ever the practical mediator and (before things could get into ugly gratuitous violence) set about putting his pre-law training to good use. "You insufferable DOUCHEBAG!" He snarled, grabbing Gabriel by the coat lapels and dragging the archangel up on tiptoe. "So it wasn't enough for you to kill Dean over and over or hit me in the jewels to make a point or to damn well go and _neglect to let us know that you were brought back to life_, but now you tell us that our _brother _is doomed to play monkey on a string again to some celestial d-bag just because of who his parents were?!"

"Easy there, Moose." Gabriel said, doing a little dance to keep his balance. "I didn't say I was going to hurt the kid."

"Ha!" Were Sam's eyes looking a bit too bright right there? "That's what Lucifer said to me too and I'll bet that's what Michael promised Adam the first time around. But no, we're not doing this again. We're _done _playing by your rules...because your rules suck!" He flung the angel away from him and stalked off angrily to a corner of the pepto-bismol coloured room.

Dean grimaced. "Not that I'm exactly thrilled at the idea of Adam being an angel condom again (because I'm not and I won't hesitate to hurt you if you even make a move towards him)," He said as if the very words were a bad taste in his mouth. "But I'm just wondering about the poor sucker you're possessing right now. Is he still alive? I mean...did the Man Upstairs, or wherever the hell he is, bring him back too or was it just you? And why hasn't he exploded if he isn't your true vessel?"

"Sugar, stupid." The angel rolled his eyes. "And to think you're the guys that stopped the Apocalypse! Where do you think the myth about Tricksters liking sugar came from? Me, duh!" He flopped down on the chair (the white wicker one with the cushion that could have passed for a giant marshmallow) and leaned back, crossing his legs. "There was only ever one trickster, bucko, and that was me. I found over the years that, contrary to what Luci used as a stregthening agent, sugar works just as well as demon blood. And it's less icky too. But then again...he always did have a flair towards the macabre and melodramatic."

There was a sound distintly like a muffled sob from Sam, but whenever Adam looked at him the middle Winchester's face was composed.

"So...sugar keeps your vessel ticking?"

"And lookin' good!" Gabriel held out his hands and struck a theatrical pose. Adam still had one last thing to clear up, though.

"So...you're not going to posess me?" He asked, wishing that his voice didn't sound quite so shaky. He was nineteen (or 25 or 467, depending on how you counted things) and had been through literal Hell, for God's sake! Why did he persistently sound like a kid going in to his first preschool class?

Gabriel's face softened a bit. "No, no." He said, still retaining the flippant manner. "I found I've developed quite a sweet-tooth over the centuries." He pulled out a Tootsie Roll as emphasis. "Besides, me and Richard go _way _back. It wouldn't be quite kosher to leave a guy in the lurch after nearly five-hundred years of being bunk-buddies, now would it?"

Sam flinched slightly at the term 'bunk buddies', but Dean let out a bark of laughter.

_"_Richard?" He said, snorting incredulously. "That meatsuit you're wearing is named _Richard_?!"

The archangel looked a bit annoyed, something that probably had its roots in the sad fact of his Tootsie Roll hitting the linty carpet and rolling away. "Yeah, Dean-o. What of it?"

"Wow." Dean sounded as though Christmas had come early that year. "That means the official nickname is actually Di - "

Adam convulsed in laughter as Sam clapped a hand over his brother's mouth, cutting off the offensive term and any chance Dean had at breathing. The tallest brother didn't look at all apologetic, though, as he glared at the slightly peeved celestial being that was currently unwrapping a lollipop. "Why don't you either shut the hell up and go away or tell us what it is about Adam's face that set you to gawking like a virgin at his first strip club?"

Dean looked particularly happy with that analogy.

Adam just kept on laughing. Perhaps he was a bit hysterical, but he couldn't help it. Today he had finally been given a clean bill of mental health from Dean (a fact that was rather funny in and of itself) and been taken on his first hunt that had firmly dropped him into the funny farm of Toon Town where he had found out that not only was he apparently not over his flashbacks from downstairs but that he was also the chosen vessel of _Gabriel_...the punk upstart that Michael and Lucifer had occasionally mentioned in their arguing. The archangel that had told a virgin in Israel that she was to carry the Son of God, the archangel that had run from Heaven and set up shop as a pagan god of mischief, the archangel that Lucifer had supposedly killed, the archangel that Adam had amused himself in the Cage by comparing himself to the little brother that Michael and Lucifer had fought about on more than one occasion. Fate REALLY hated him!

Gabriel was pouting. "Dammit, Dean-o." He said petulantly, ignoring Sam's question. "It isn't _his _fault that names like Goffrey, Mortimer, and Robin were in fashion at the time I nipped down to Earth."

"It's still funny though, Dick."

Adam screamed with laughter.

* * *

"Yeah, yeah...laugh it up, Sammy." Dean glared at nothing as he stomped back to the car (the fact that it was not Baby only worsening his mood). "I was really sure that it was a djinn!"

"You see, Adam?" Sam said, never one to pass up the chance to multi-task by teaching his younger brother and rubbing it in his elder brother's face at the same time. "This is why research is vital to a successful hunt. If you're _really _sure about joining us - "

"I am." How many times did he have to say it?

" - then you _must _prepare, prepare, prepare. Going into a hunt blind won't hurt anyone but yourself."

"And whatever hostages that son of a bitch might have taken."

"Some monsters are female, Dean."

He snorted. "Yeah, well they'd have to be, wouldn't they, since they keep freakin' multiplying?!"

Ewwww! "Thanks for that mental image." Adam said, feeling a bit green about the gills. "I think I'm gonna hurl."

"Well if you must, aim for Sammy. This is the only pair of boots I have."

Sam glared.

"Nah, I'm good." Adam swallowed and forced a grin. "I just have one question...if you thought he was dead, how could research have helped you prepare for Dick back there?"

As Dean snorted with laughter, Sam opened his mouth to reply. Apparently he couldn't think of a suitable one and before he could say _something, _Dean poked him in the ribs. "Brat's got a point, Sammy." He said gleefully. "The blame is squarely between the two of us this time."

"Jerk."

"Bitch"

* * *

And, yeah, that was my day. Boy was it a crazy one! Whatever illusion of sanity I still had after the Cage is now officially gone, God help me.

At least I know I'm not in danger of being used for an angel's prom dress any time soon. Gabriel seems quite content to hide out in middle-aged janitor, eating sweets and screwing over douchebags with elaborate and sometimes-deadly pranks. I wish I had heard more of the story about how he got three powerful goddesses from three different religions angry with him, but I had more important things to ask. Like whether or not Mary rode a donkey. He never did answer me properly...just kept going on about how the trip could have been made in half the time if she and Joseph had just invested in a couple of Harleys. Good God are angels weird!

But it's late now and Dean's about to come by for his 'totally-not-hovering-or-mollycoddling' bedtime routine, so I'd better sign this off and try to find a new hiding place for the journal that hopefully he won't be able to find this time. I don't even want to talk about the time he found those magazines I confiscated from him...

So I'd better go now.

Adam Winchester, signing off.


End file.
